


Waiting

by Tomboy13



Series: Butch Lena au [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Butch Lena Luthor, Butch au, F/F, Fluff, Jealous Kara Danvers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: Skimmvns suggested Butch Lena Luthor on Tumblr and here we are....This is a bit of a ramble looking at the beginnings of Kara and Lena's relationship from Lena's point of view.I don't own the characters, just my own glaring mistakes.





	1. Chapter 1

The bar was nearly empty.  
It was a Tuesday, early in in the year, and at that hour with the clock brushing midnight, only a few of the most determined drinkers were powering through their fatigue and the cheerless atmosphere of the dingy dive bar, tucked down an alley near the docks.  
It was probably silly, but Lena Luthor had still made an effort.  
The remaining patrons had gawped as she walked in, her starched white shirt as fresh as the number-zero on the back and sides of her head, the neatly trimmed side parting on top carefully brylcreemed until not a hair was out of place. Several pairs of eyes followed her, taking in the white-gold cufflinks, the dark blue suit trousers and yellow linen skinny tie, and the silver tie-pin with the emerald head (it had been her father’s, meant for his eldest son, but the State didn't allow maximum security prisoners to have sharp objects, much to Lena's gain).  
In a place where the predominant colours were brown, grey, and weirdly opaque stickiness, the butch woman in her Sunday-best stood out like a diamond in a coal mine.

Grabbing a seat at the bar, the youngest Luthor gestured for a whisky. The barmaid returned with a plastic glass filled with an amber liquid that could charitably be described as bourbon.  
Taking a sip of liquor, swilling it round her mouth to take the anti-freeze edge off, she settled in to wait for her date.  
Lena hated meeting them in places like this; the out of the way, corner holes of the city, where they could be together publicly and yet never be seen.  
The other woman deserved to be cherished, to be taken to the best places and treated to the best foods and drinks that money could buy.  
Finishing the whiskey and ordering another, the woman smiled faintly to herself.  
She couldn't wait until they could walk down Main Street together hand in hand; until she could take the junior reporter to Galas and award shows and glitzy industry parties, and introduce her with pride as her date. The thought of it made her butch heart beat a little quicker.  
It had only been a few weeks, and she knew it was too early to use the ‘G’ word, but when she was lying alone in bed at night, Lena couldn't help but imagine their future together.  
In her lonely dreaming, the future was bright.  
The only problem was, the woman she was rapidly falling in love with wasn't ready to tell people yet.  
Lena wasn't sure why; wasn't sure whether it was because she was a woman, or because she was a Luthor, but she respected it, nonetheless. She’d wait in these awful, foul smelling bars and empty, dirty cafes forever if it meant she got to do so with _her_.  
The door to the bar opened and the brunette swivelled quicker than she’d intended.  
A tall, well built man with designer stubble and blood shot eyes stared at her for a moment before walking to sit at the other end of the bar.

Not Kara.

The youngest Luthor sighed. She could remember as clear as if it was that afternoon the day she first saw the blonde woman standing in her office, almost hidden behind Clarke Kent.  
That Metropolis rat, Lena thought bitterly; a man who had spent the better part of 2 years writing about her as if she was the devil, and whose first instinct on the Venture nearly blowing up mid take off was to come banging on the nearest Luthor's door.  
She’d felt sick with sadness and the damn injustice of it all before hand, pacing her office until her secretary had offered to cancel the whole thing.  
Lena had refused. Backing down wasn't in her DNA, and she certainly wasn't going to run because some idiot hack was intent on tarring her with Lex’s twisted brush.  
It had turned out to be the best decision of her life.  
It was as the butch woman went to pick up the USB stick with the investigation into her companies Venture fuck-up, that she definitely should not have been giving to a pair of journalists before the FBI, but that she desperately wanted to rub in Clark Kent’s smug face, that she caught the younger reporter slipping something onto her desk, next to the novelty cowboy-cactus that had been a moving present from Jack.  
It wasn't until after they'd shaken hands and her assistant had shown the two visitors out that Lena had rushed to see what it was that Kara Danvers had left her.  
It was a business card, so new that the ink was practically still damp. On it was Kara's name, and a phone number.

She had carried that card in the inside pocket of her blazer for 3 days.

On the third day, the CEO was due to take a helicopter from L Corp out into the desert to watch one of Maxwell Lord’s absurdly flashy experiments.  
As they hovered above the building, and Lena saw the drones circling them, gun barrels winking in the bright sunshine, her first thought was that she really, really wished she’d called the damn number.

As the chopper was wrestled to the ground by unseen hands, and she tried desperately to stop her pilot bleeding out, the card burned in her pocket, feeling exactly like a second chance.

When the door was wrenched open and she found herself looking square into the face that had been lingering in her every spare thought for days, Lena thought that maybe fate had a sense of humour after all.

“I am so sorry I’m late!” A familiar, breathless voice gasped out.  
Lena beamed as she turned, her hands already reaching out towards strong biceps.  
“Don't worry darling, I would have waited all night for you.”  
The blonde laughed, leaning in to press a not-quite chaste kiss to the butch’s lips.  
“Are you this smooth to all the women?” Kara asked, eyes smouldering into her lover’s.  
Lena chuckled, breaking eye contact only long enough to pull over a second stool.  
“Of course, that's why I’m fighting them off.” She gestured around the empty bar; the red-eyed guy glowered at her, before returning to his pint.  
“So, what can I get a pretty lady to drink?”  
The reporter smiled, adjusting her glasses.  
“I don't know, but I will have a white wine.”  
Lena gestured again to the barmaid, who seemed even less impressed to actually have to work now that the beautiful, blonde femme had arrived.  
“You are beautiful, my angel.” The brunette said, leaning closer to tuck a strand of blonde hair back from a downy cheek.  
Kara blushed. It made little tingles set off in the lower part of the business woman's stomach, the way the walking ray of sunshine would pink at something completely innocuous; it made Lena want to believe that the rosiness was saved only for her; it made her think of all the other ways she might one day get to make her date flush.  
The glass of wine slamming down next to them broke the moment.  
Lena casually handed over a crisp twenty, telling the woman behind the bar to keep the change, which earned her an almost-smile and a wink.  
Turning back, she saw that Kara was frowning.  
“What's wrong baby?”  
The frown deepened, and if it was anyone else, it might even be called scowling.  
Lena followed the line of sight until it met the server.  
“Darling, what is it? Has she upset you?”  
Kara looked down at her hands, before adjusting her glasses. When she looked up, her eyes were fierce.  
“I'm going to kiss you now Lena, is that ok?”  
Gulping at the fire in the femme’s voice, Lena nodded.  
The kiss was sudden, going from nought to sixty before the butch’s lips could respond.  
As her brain kicked in and she had chance to kiss back just as passionately, hands lacing into long hair to pull the other woman closer and stomach flipping in excitement, it felt like the best rollercoaster she'd ever been on.  
When they broke apart, Lena couldn't hide the beaming grin.  
“Holy shit.” She whispered, reverently.  
Kara smiled, her pale pink lipstick all but wiped off and the soft wave of her hair ruined by clumsy, grasping hands.  
“Did you like that?”  
“I…Jesus, Kara, you’ve never kissed me like that before. I don't know where it came from, but I loved it.”<  
Momentarily, the scowl reappeared, as the other woman glanced at the barmaid, who was adjusting the bra straps under her tight mock-leather vest.  
“Wait, are you…jealous?”  
The blonde visibly gulped.  
“I'm sorry, baby. I-I know I don't have a right to be jealous, I just felt a bit…annoyed…when she was flirting with you. Are you mad?”  
There was a tone of panic on the last words, and it made Lena’s heart clench a bit.  
Shuffling the stool closer, she took both of the other woman's manicured hands in one of her own slightly rougher ones. The other hand she wrapped around the lithe waist, over the pastel green sun dress but under the baby blue cardigan, allowing herself a second to appreciate the warmth and the floral smell of Kara’s perfume.  
“Listen to me, sweetheart. I am not mad, ok? If anything, I'm a bit happy. I’m not saying I want you to be possessive or anything, but seeing you get a little jealous is kind of a thrill.”  
Kara leaned into Lena’s embrace.  
“Really?”  
The brunette nodded emphatically.  
“Absolutely. I…I really like you, Kara. Not just as a friend but as a girlfriend, and seeing you get a bit envious makes me feel wanted in return.”  
Too late, Lena heard her slip up.  
“Girlfriend?” The reporter said, flatly.  
Lena closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the older woman as if by doing so, she could keep her from flying away.  
Opening them, she continued, in a voice that was considerably calmer than she felt,  
“If that's something you would want. I wasn't kidding when I said I like you, love. I would be very proud to call you my girlfriend, if that was something you're ready for.”  
The silence stretched out. The bar seemed to have quieted and become distant, the clinking of glasses and the sighs of the drunks around them suddenly sounding very far away.  
“Lena, are you serious?”  
Puffing her cheeks out, the Luthor rubbed the prickly back of her head, enjoying the brief comfort it gave.  
Before her were two very clear options; to try and take it back, to grasp what dignity she had left and run, or own it, in the face of whatever may come.

Lena Lutessa Luthor had never backed down from a challenge.

“Yes, Kara, I am very serious about you. About us. If that's not something you want, we can go back to being friends, or acquaintances, whatever you want. But if it's something you would like, I want nothing more than to have the honour of calling you my girlfriend.”  
Kara swallowed, her throat bobbing.  
“The honour?”  
“Yes, baby. Dating you has been a privilege; but getting to be with you, to take care of you and…and love you, that would be the biggest honour.”  
The blonde looked like she was about to cry.  
Inside, Lena started to freak out.  
“We should go.”  
A sliver of the butch woman’s heart snapped off as Kara spoke.  
So that was that, she thought over the pain; you gambled it, and you lost. Just another day in the life of Lena Luthor.  
Sighing, she got to her feet, pulling her blazer back on and making sure she had her phone and wallet.  
There'd be time for tears later, in private, but for now there was a job to do.  
It ached that this would probably be the last time she got to do it.  
“At least let me walk you to a cab, it's very late and this is not a nice area.”  
One of the other drinkers apparently overheard this slur, leaning back far enough to give her the eyeball through one squinting eye. The cheap beer didn't allow him to open the other eyelid.  
Kara looked puzzled, slipping off her stool.  
“Are you not coming with me?”  
There was a moment of awkwardness, both women trying to work out what end of the stick they were supposed to have.  
“Why, where are we going?” Lena asked eventually, lines appearing on her forehead showing her confusion.  
“To see my sister. Baby, I’ve been desperate to ask you to be my girlfriend since about the second time I saw you, I want to tell everyone, right now.”  
Hope bloomed in Lena’s chest, the powerful tendrils pushing through her ribs and winding their way up to pull at her cheeks.  
“Right now? Kara, it's 1am in the morning.”  
The blonde pouted.  
“I've been waiting for this for a long time, Lena Luthor. Please don't make me wait another second.”  
Lena laughed then, heartily and care free. It sounded out of place in the desolate back street pub, but she didn't care.  
Her girlfriend (her girlfriend!) took her hand and began to tug her towards the door.  
Outside, she pulled the brunette close to her warm frame, leaning down to kiss the shorter woman through smiling lips.  
“Can I?” Kara asked, eyes rolling skywards.  
Lena held on a little tighter, and nodded into her lover’s chest.  
“Time waits for no man, Supergirl.”


	2. Chapter 2

The flight was short, only a few blocks over until they reached Alex’s apartment.  
The chiffon curtains flapped in the breeze as Kara lowered Lena through the opening before crunching herself up smaller and following.  
Lena stood in next to the radiator, her eyes adjusting to the pitch black interior of the apartment, nervously smoothing her hair down. The Brylcreem was sticky on her hand, and she tried to focus on that to quell the feeling of impending doom.  
“Wait here, I’ll go wake her up.” The Superhero whispered, pressing an excitable kiss to her girlfriend's temple.  
In spite of herself, Lena grinned.  
She watched Kara move towards the back of the apartment, where the outline of a raised dais could conceivably be the bed.  
Adjacent to where the butch was standing, a door opened, suddenly and quietly, light flooding the apartment from the room beyond.  
She had a moment to recognise a vaguely familiar face before the shouting started, and the nuzzle of a handgun was held at face level.  
“Get down! On the floor! Get on the fucking floor! Hands behind your head!”  
Startled, the CEO dropped to her knees, hands clasped tightly to the base of her skull.  
“Don't move! I'll shoot you if you move!” The shouting continued.  
The lights to the main apartment flicked on, blinding the brunette for a couple of moments.  
When she came round, it was to more shouting, but at least the gun had disappeared.  
“For Rao’s sake Alex, what the hell are you doing?!”  
“She was just standing there! How was I supposed to know she was with you?” There was a pause, and the previous owner of the gun looked between the blonde standing angrily in front of her, and the woman currently quivering on her knees. “Why are you even here?”  
A hand gently patted Lena’s shoulder, and a soft voice whispered,  
“You can get up now.”  
Lena struggled to her feet, and turned to see the detective who had once arrested her looking apologetic.  
“I know you.” She said, a hint of relief in her voice at the sheer normalcy of it.  
“Yeah, Maggie Sawyer.” The Latina held out a friendly hand, and Lena shook it, ignoring for a second the raised voices a metre to their left.  
“Lena Luthor. Although you already know that.”  
The two women smiled sheepishly at each other.  
The sound of something hitting a counter top drew their attention.  
In the compact kitchen, Alex had slammed her open palm on the wood, and was using the other to gesture wildly at her sister.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“I am talking about you, carrying _a gun_ to the bathroom! Who does that! That is not sensible gun ownership! Someone could have been hurt!” Kara wagged a finger at the older Danvers.  
Alex was very red in the face, and in hindsight, Lena knew she should have seen the next barb coming.  
She didn't though, and it stung.  
“Not safe? Ok, Kara, lets talk about things not being safe. Let's start with you bringing a god damn Luthor into my home in the middle of the night.”  
The room fell silent. In her peripheral vision, Lena saw Maggie’s calming smirk drop away into a look of horror.  
Kara went very still.  
“Kara, darling, maybe we should come back when we’ve all had some sleep-“ the Luthor in question began.  
Kara looked at her, mouth agape, and Lena saw her expression soften, a millisecond before it hardened into steel.  
“No. You,” the Kryptonian said, turning back to her sister, “don't ever talk about my girlfriend like that again, do you understand?”  
The agent’s eyes widened comically.  
A little part of Lena smirked at the confusion on the usually unreadable face; a bigger part started to panic.  
“Girlfriend?” She whispered softly.  
Kara nodded, stepping up to Lena and taking her hand.  
Lena beamed at their entwined fingers before remembering where she was and letting her features fall into her ‘work face’.  
“We are going to leave now Alex, and you need to think very hard about what happens next.” Kara spoke clearly now, no hint of the rage of a few moments before.  
Lena felt herself being dragged towards what she assumed was the front door, stumbling slightly in her heavy shoes.  
“Wait.”  
Kara stopped with her hand on the doorknob; the butch saw from this proximity that there was a slight shake there, and resolved to be extra affectionate with her lover until the scars of the argument had faded.  
Pivoting simultaneously, the new couple both looked at the older woman, who was glowering at them from under sleep-messed hair.  
Brown eyes briefly met green ones, and a spark of anxiety shot down Lena’s spine.  
“I'll tell you what’s going to happen next. I’m going to put some pants on, and then Luthor’s going to come for a little walk.”  
“Alex, you aren’t-“ Kara began. Her sister held up a hand, her head bowed. When she spoke, her voice was solid and unmovable as the mountains.  
“Luthor, buckle up. Maggie, pass me my pants.”

The air outside was cold as Lena followed Alex down the street.  
The agent was setting a punishing pace, but Lena was damned if she’d let herself fall behind, the stubbornness coiled into her DNA forcing her to keep up, refusing to show any sign of weakness.  
“Sorry, where are we going?” The Luthor asked, her voice betraying breathlessness.  
The other woman didn't even turn her head.  
“You’re buying me a beer, and then we’re going to have a little talk.”  
“Where are we going to get a beer at this time of night?” Lena asked, hoping she didn't sound as whiny as she felt, trailling uselessly along next to her sort-of sister-in-law.  
They turned a corner, and Lena stopped short.  
It was the grotty, grimy pub from earlier in the night, and without Kara there as a distraction, the alleyway looked even less appealing, just a dank gully filled with rotting trash and old, bent shopping trollies.  
“For fuck's sake.” She muttered, watching the older woman disappearing through the door.

The inside hadn't changed in the last hour, down to the positions of the other customers.  
Red-eye guy glared over at them as they took a table near the wall, Lena walking to the bar to retrieve their drinks. The barmaid made no sign of recognition, barely grunting a response as the butch woman handed her cash over.  
Almost as soon as she put the bottle of cheap lager down in front her companion, the other woman said, sounding contemplative,  
“You can tell a lot about a person by what they order to drink. See me, I’ve gone for a beer. Nothing fancy, no frills, but it gets the job done. Now you, on the other hand, you’ve ordered a whisky. What do you think that says about you, huh?”  
Lena looked at the plastic glass for a second.  
“It says that if I have one drink left before I die, I'm not going to waste it on a bloody beer.”  
The agent regarded the Luthor for a long while with stoic, cold eyes, before allowing herself a chuckle, a hand rubbing over her forehead.  
“Look, I’m sorry for earlier.”  
Lena shrugged gallically.  
“Don't worry, that wasn't the first time someone's pointed a gun at my head and it probably won't be the last.”  
Across from her, Alex began to peel the label off the brown bottle, a deepening frown creasing her forehead.  
“No, not that. I mean…what I said. About you.”  
Lena sighed.  
“You weren't wrong. I am a Luthor. Just not one of the psychotic ones.”  
“I shouldn't have thrown that in your face though. I know you and Kara have been friends for a while now, and you’ve given me no cause to doubt you. I just…you have to understand, Kara isn't just my sister, she's my best friend and my only concern. I will do anything to protect her, anything at all, and I'll go through whoever I have to to do it."  
Lena chucked back a swig of alcohol.  
“I know. She's lucky to have someone like you in her life. But you have to understand Alex, everything you just said? It's exactly the same for me. She is my best friend and my lover, and she is all I have. I'll do anything to keep her safe and happy, and I do mean anything.”  
“You love her.” Alex said sagely.  
“I do.” Lena's eyes widened. “God, don't tell her I said that. It's way to early for that, I'll scare her off.”  
“I won't say anything. But you wouldn't scare her off, you know. You're the first person she's properly brought home for me to meet. She must be crazy about you.”  
Lena ruminated on this for a moment.  
“Is that why you aren't giving me the shovel talk?”  
Alex blinked, confusion showing in her eyes.  
“Luthor, I had you on your knees in my apartment with a loaded gun poised to blow your brains all over my parquet floor, and that was _before_ I knew you were dating _my sister_. So how about we skip the talk and just take it as a 'message received'?"  
Lena held both her open hands up in supplication.  
“Loud and clear!” She laughed.  
“Finish your drink and let's get back to our women before Kara worries a hole in the floor.” The agent said, a hint of sadness in her voice. Lena swallowed the last of her whiskey, glad for the burn after a weird night.  
“Just do me a favour, ok?” Alex said, pulling on her mock-leather jacket. Lena waited expectantly. “Take her out somewhere nice for your first proper out-and-proud date. She deserves to be treated well, and she hasn't been, not in the past.”  
Lena nodded solemnly.  
“Those guys must have been idiots. That's all I've wanted to do for months!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get their official date...

The wardrobe stood open, most of the contents dragged and strewn across the spacious, modern bedroom.  
Lena stood in centre of the chaos in only her boxers and favourite sports bra, the one that held everything in so nicely without cutting off the circulation, surveying the numerous options, the variety of colours and textures.  
She sighed.  
It should not be this hard to chose between 17 slightly different shades of the same style button up shirt, to match the black-blue tapered jeans and skinny claret tie that she had chosen because Kara had once said, back when they were just friends, that the combination made Lena look handsome.  
Tonight was their first official date, the first time she could take the reporter out on the town and maybe show off a little about their fledgling relationship. It was at once wonderful, and terrifying.  
Desperately wanting everything to be perfect, the butch felt a curious mix of excited and nauseous brewing in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that she’d only experienced maybe twice before in her romantic life.  
Both those times had left a bitter taste in her mouth, which was definitely not helping; nor was the creeping knowledge that Lena felt more for Kara in even one ventricle than she had felt in her entire heart for both Gwen Peterson-Brown (tenth grade) and Adeline Kachovska (second year, MIT) put together.  
“Oh god!" The CEO growled dramatically, rubbing the flats of both hands aggressively over her buzzcut, trying to avoid the longer hair on top while the pomade ‘set’.  
Sometimes Lena thought it would have been easier if she could have just been a natural femme; the ladylike women that she knew and had known seemed to understand on instinct the styles and fashions that would make their partners go weak in the knees, and exuded a magic that Lena had no idea how to replicate.  
It wasn't like she hadn't tried. She’d spent the first 18 years of her life trying to blend in, wearing shorter skirts and bolder makeup and keeping her hair longer than the other girls, as if it could somehow mask the excruciating wrongness of it all. As if it could mask the bulldyke inside, clawing to get out.  
She’d made sure to sit with crossed legs and walk with a sway to her step; made sure to giggle about the boys with the other het femmes, and hide any inkling that she wasn't just like them.  
In the end, though, being able to stand living that particularly painful lie had an expiry date, and as if by osmosis, Lena had become butch by steady, eye-opening, unavoidable increments.  
The first tiny-giant step had been the night she’d convinced Valerie Koratova to cut her hair short. They'd been barely 19, and very drunk, racing through some of the off cast booze from the Luthor’s New Year Party that Lillian would be far too snobby to ever consider drinking herself.  
They hadn't had clippers or even a proper pair of scissors; Val had used a child’s safety pair from Lena’s old school pencil case, snipping and occasionally sawing until finally there was less than 2-4mm left, varying lengths sprouting out of her head like soft cactus spines.  
Lena had never loved a haircut as much before or since. She’d spent most of the night and all of the next morning looking side to side in the mirror, stroking at the spiky barbs.  
When she’d finally been forced to emerge from her bedroom, Lillian had been furious; she’d stormed out, all rage and inarticulate fury, and Lena had sobbed clean through her hangover.  
When the older woman returned, hours later, she had had a box tucked under one arm, and had instructed Lena to sit on one of the cheap, everyday chairs in the staff kitchen as she ran a number 3 over the crags and bumps of her adopted daughter’s skull, hands shockingly gentle.  
When she’d finished, she’d handed the box to her daughter, folded her arms and instructed Lena to learn to use them.  
It had been the kindest and most intimate hour that they would ever share, and they’d never spoken of it again.  
The incident had been both weird and exhilarating, and had given Lena the spurt of self-confidence to start to express herself in other ways.  
The dresses went first, gladly, followed in short order by the skirts and the high heels.  
The makeup took a little longer, the ever disapproving eye of her mother pointing out every blemish and freckle. Even now, tucked away at the back of her bedside table there was a stale tube of lipstick, a circle of dusty blue eye shadow, and a roll of mascara so old that it had conjunctivitis written all over it.  
She’d been 23 before she’d finally looked herself in the eye and been able to say, out loud, “Man, I’m butch. This is who I am. And I am not ashamed.”  
It had felt like opening a door and letting all the hidden parts of her free, unable to ever be squashed back into their container. She had understood then, briefly, why Pandora opened the box.  
She’d felt quite uncharacteristically happy afterwards, hopeful in ways that she’d thought beyond her.  
Even now, when things got too much, it was a steel-hard something to hang onto: she, Lena Luthor, was a stone butch, wearing her identity on her sleeve for all to see, day in and day out, and if she could deal with the looks and the unkind words and the endless bible-shaking, self-righteous, media furore, she could deal with anything.  
Except, apparently, choosing between the baby blue and the black-and-white checked shirt for her date, that she had to leave for in… she glanced at the clock… 18 and a half minutes, give or take a few seconds.

She had decided on, as usual, a white shirt, this one made of linen and without cuff buttons. The links she chose were gold, and plain, just enough to set off the almond coloured suit jacket she’d spent far too long dithering about.  
The final article was smart enough to show she cared, but casual enough to assuage the pangs of insecurity.  
The playlist she blared on the drive over was her running playlist, the kind of cheesy, razzle-dazzle, heart thumping tunes that she would rather cut her own clitoris off than have playing when Kara got in the car. For then, she’d put together her own mix of sultry 50s hits and Motown classics, but for now, she needed something to keep the panic at bay.  
The car itself had been a particular stroke of genius, if she did say so herself. She’d hired it for an extortionate fee, a 1969 cherry red Chevrolet Impala, refurbished to keep its original charms while tastefully incorporating all the mod-cons one could ask for.  
The image that had been playing in her head when she booked it was of the Kryptonian wearing one of the summery swing-dresses she so favoured, being helped into the low-sitting car by her masculine, suited-and-booted lover, like a cut-scene from one of the classic movie musicals that the femme adored. Just the thought of it was enough to make Lena's heart fizzle in anticipation. 

Pulling up outside the familiar apartment block, Lena raced to get inside, taking the stairs two at a time in her eagerness.  
The door was wrenched open before she could even knock, revealing a beaming Kara Zor-El, and a bemused looking Alex Danvers.  
“Hi.” Kara squeaked, hands clasped around a gold-lamé clutch purse held close in front of her.  
“Hi yourself.” Lena managed, through a mouth stretched almost preternaturally wide in happiness.  
Kara had gone to town; the dress she’d chosen was tight fitted, made of a stretchy black material with a delicate green and gold floral pattern. It stopped at mid-thigh, and Lena couldn't help but allow her eyes to travel down her girlfriend's muscular, shapely legs to the patent leather pumps. Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, a slight bouffant up-do creating a gentle bee-hive on the top of the woman's head. “You look _stunning_."  
Lena became acutely aware that she was staring at the same time as Alex cleared her throat.  
“Well, you kids have fun. And you,” the agent said, unfolding one of her arms to point at the butch, “don't drink and drive, and make sure she gets back here in one piece or on your head be it.”  
The younger woman nodded with wide eyes, before holding an arm out to the blonde.  
“M’lady, your chariot awaits.” 

Kara had genuinely squealed when she saw the car, and had insisted on taking at least 15 photos of both the vehicle itself, and them, grinning like idiots in the front seat and sat on the bonnet.  
The reaction filled Lena with confidence, and as they hit the main road, she slid a hand over the fawn-brown leather of the front seat, allowing her fingers to caress the exposed skin of Kara’s thigh. When she glanced over nervously to check that she hadn't overstepped, Kara's eyes were locked intensely on the exploratory digits, and she was shifting closer to give the butch better access.  
Inside, Lena's teenage self fist pumped the air. 

The restaurant was busy, but tastefully so, the gentle hum of conversation accentuating the intimate atmosphere created by the low lighting and dark panelled walls.  
Lena had booked a booth (don't ask her what it had taken to get a booth at L’Hotel d’Or on a Saturday night with less than a week's notice), and had taken the risk of pre-ordering a 7 course meal, trying to imagine she was Kara as she chose the menu items to make up the feast.  
The desert dishes were being cleared away, while Kara finished her third Bellini, Lena watching her with adoration as she giggled her way through a story from work.  
“I don't know why you don't just throw him into space.” She asked flippantly when she was certain the waiter was out of ear shot.  
“Snappers not that bad. He’s kind of a hard ass, but that's because he needs to be.”  
A comfortable silence fell between them, nuanced with lingering glances and bitten lips.  
“You’re wonderful, do you know that?” Lena sighed involuntarily, bringing a hand up to brush strands of blonde hair out of her lover’s face.  
Kara blushed.  
“Says you. I can't believe you did all this for me.”  
Lena shrugged, smiling.  
“You deserve to be a little spoiled. I wanted to show you a taste of how much you mean to me, but I don't think I could manage that even if I brought you the stars.”  
The blush deepened, making Lena’s stomach skitter.  
“This is the best date I've ever been on, but you really don't need to spoil me, baby. I'd be happy doing just about anything with you.”  
Lena preened internally at the nickname.  
“Well, if you've finished your cocktail, it's not over yet.”  
Kara looked surprised.  
“Where are we going?”  
“I know this meal has been lovely, but there is no way that these fiddly bits will have filled you up, darling.” The brunette said with a teasing tone as she pulled her blazer on. “I thought we could take the Chevy down to the waterfront. The Street Food Festival is on this weekend, and I would love nothing more than to treat you to some proper food, preferably deep-fried and covered in sugar.”  
There was a sudden and weighted silence from the seat next to her.  
Lena looked over with a smirk that quickly fell off her face.  
The blonde woman looked devastated, her bottom lip stuck out in an aggressive pout, wobbling as she tried to hold back obvious tears.  
Without hesitating, the Luthor slid closer, her hands going to cup her lover's face, checking for any sign of injury or what could have caused the sudden u-turn in mood.  
“Oh my love, what's wrong? What's happened? Is it the festival? It was just a silly idea, we can do anything you like, or…or I can take you right home now if you’d rather.”  
Kara gawped at her then, open mouthed.  
“Lena…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Lena, I…I’m so crazy about you.”  
The younger woman’s brow creased in confusion.  
“I'm crazy about you too Kara. Is that what upset you?”  
The femme laughed, a tear slipping free of one eye and getting caught in the lower rim of her glasses.  
“Baby, I’m not upset, I’m happy. I've never had anyone who understands me the way you do, who treats me so well without it being a duty.”  
Lena gave a sympathetic half-smile.  
“Kara, darling, I'm always going to treat you well. I love you, you silly monkey.”  
Her girlfriend laughed at that, a genuine, full throated guffaw.  
“Can I kiss you now?” The hero asked gently, when the chuckles had subsided.  
In response, Lena pressed their lips together, the taste of Kara’s lipstick driving away any thoughts of propriety or of the other patrons sat mere feet away. 

The Impala eased to a halt outside of Kara's apartment, neither woman making a move to get out.  
Kara had spent most of the drive back pressed firmly into her woman’s side on the old-fashioned bench seat, and Lena, sat low and relaxed behind the wheel, had draped an arm possessively around the strong shoulders, her hand stroking the naked skin of Kara's bicep that was exposed by the sleeveless dress.  
Shifting to look her beloved in the eye, Supergirl fluttered her long eyelashes, a finger toying with the delicate silver tie pin on her lover's chest.  
“Would you like to come up?”  
Lena raised one eyebrow.  
“For coffee?”  
“If you like. You can stay, too...if you wanted.”  
It was the butch woman's turn to gape then, studying the alien’s face to make sure that the connotations she’d read between the lines were correct.  
What she saw burning in the deep blue eyes made something low in her belly clench warmly.  
“Oh, I definitely _want."_ She grinned, leaning in to clash her mouth against the blonde's, the scent of sweet perfume making her head spin. "Lead the way, Supergirl." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this, and especially to those who commented and Kudos'd.  
> I know, it was shameless fluff; wall-to-wall, tooth-rotting, candy floss-pink substance-less fluff, and I'm not sorry at all!


End file.
